


An End Once and For All

by oOAchilliaOo



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/pseuds/oOAchilliaOo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the end of the Reaper war…</p>
<p>She, lies amongst the rubble, in pain, breathing one single breath and wondering if she can fight on. </p>
<p>He, grimaces as Chackwas prods his wounds and despairs wondering what's become of his Shepard. </p>
<p>But will they find each other again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An End Once and For All

She,

Instinctively sucked in a single breath of air, and became instantly aware of just how much like a motherfucker it hurt. Everywhere. Pain like she had never ever felt before thundered through her body. Her lungs desperately drew in more air despite the fact that each breath sent shocks of pain vibrating through her system. She was tired, so very very tired, and she hurt, and the deep dark black bliss of pain-free unconsciousness was floating just behind her eyes. It would be easy, so so easy, just to slip into it, to stop the painful breaths…

But there was a reason not to. There was, she just couldn’t remember it, it hurt way too goddamned much. She tried to move as her lungs heaved and gasped for air, continuing to send the little shocks of pain through her system. 

But she couldn’t do it. There was no strength left in either her body or her mind. She had nothing else to give. She knew only two things: the unimaginable pain and the fact that there was some reason to endure it. 

There was a reason.

She knew there was a reason, and if the pain could stop for just a few moments, she might be able to figure it out…

 

He,

Grimaced as Chakwas prodded the open wound, then hissed as she began to apply the medi-gel. She’d given him painkillers and informed him that it should heal up nicely but there was nothing she could do about the vast, cavernous, deep pit of despair nestled in his gut. He’d left her. She’d ordered him to go and he’d gone, again. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen. 

Oh, he’d known that she would most likely have to give her life to defeat the Reapers. 

And he’d known that if that was the sacrifice demanded of her, she’d pay it without hesitation, and possibly even without regret. 

But he had thought that, at the very least, this time she might have allowed him to come along for the ride. Just so he could be there for her at the end and maybe, if he was very very lucky, he could have died beside her.

But no.

She’d ordered him to go and he’d gone and she’d died without him, again. He really didn’t want to live without her, didn’t want to try. There was a reason to do so, he was sure and perhaps if the ache of despair inside him could lift for just a moment he might be able to figure it out…. 

 

She, 

Heard the voices, the screech of metal and knew it for the sound of salvation. She, of course, had no idea how long she’d been lying wherever here was, since time had ceased to have meaning outside her individual, and still excruciatingly painful, breaths. She didn’t have the energy to shout out or move, or do anything but lie there experiencing the pain. But she knew she needed to be awake when they found her, so they’d know that she wanted to live. 

There was a reason to live, even if she hadn’t figured out what it was yet.

The voices grew louder. There was a screech of metal somewhere to her left and suddenly, a bright light.

“Sir, SIR. It’s her. She’s still alive.” 

Shepard gasped for air one more time and at last surrendered to the blissfully pain-free black void. 

But they’d found her. 

 

They,

Stood at the foot of her bed. 

“A coma?” Hackett said. 

Miranda nodded. “Her injuries were severe but not irreversible. It’s the failing cybernetics that have done the most damage.” Her voice was cool, clinical, but every now and then her eyes flickered to the figure in the bed and concern would flash across her features. 

“I don’t understand,” Hackett stated. 

Miranda dragged a frustrated hand through her hair. “When we… saved her before,” she began. “We used cybernetic enhancements to compensate for all the things we couldn’t replace or replicate. The cybernetics were augmented with a learning algorithm. They were designed to… teach Shepard’s body what to do. Over time the cybernetics would have become unnecessary.”

“Over time?” 

“Right, the process was not complete and like every other piece of advanced tech they ceased to operate when the relays blew. Before they had finished teaching her cells what to do.”

“But her cells are… learning. On their own?” 

“Yes, I suspect that now they’re being forced to sustain the body, they’re learning quicker, teaching themselves. It should mean that we can save her and yet…” Miranda trailed off, tired eyes raking over Shepard’s body then flicking over the numerous IV’s and monitors that she was hooked up to. “And yet it’s like she’s not fighting it, like she’s just ticking over until she either finds the will to fight and return to us or…” She stopped, throat tight. She didn’t even want to consider that.

“Or lets go,” Hackett finished anyway and Miranda could do nothing but nod her head in the affirmative. 

“She’s waiting for something,” Miranda murmured. 

Hackett nodded. “How long has she been like this?” 

“Since she was found two months ago.” 

“Has there been any word from the Normandy?” 

“None.”

 

He, 

Felt the Normandy judder with the impact of landing just as Chakwas finished bandaging his chest. He nodded his thanks to her and dragged his uniform shirt over his head. 

There was a reason to go on, even if he hadn’t figured out what it was yet. 

Once he reached the cockpit, the reality of what had happened hit him square in the gut. No relays, comm buoys, or even…

“EDI?” 

Nothing. Nothing but victory at terrible, horrifying, cost. 

He squeezed Joker’s shoulder, the most comfort he could manage to offer and silenced him as soon as he began to apologise for leaving Shepard. It was as it had been last time they were both to blame: him for leaving her, Joker for not saving her. 

The airlock opened to reveal a lush green garden world. At least that was an improvement on Alchera. He spun around in order to survey the Normandy, surprised at the level of damage she’d sustained. Internally some systems had been blown out by EDI’s…non-functionality but she’d somehow partially separated herself from some of Normandy’s more basic systems beforehand and at least they still worked. It was odd though, almost as if EDI had known. 

The hull, however, had been sheared by the force of the mass effect as it had detonated around them. But as far as he could tell it was only sheared, nothing had actually broken off. That meant they could fix it. 

He issued the orders he knew he had to issue to the marines. Food, protection, repairs. Liara offered to work on the comms. Garrus said he’d do what he could with the engines. Tali said she’d take a look at the internal systems; see if there was anything she could do there. James worked on the hull repairs. He pitched in with them all, trying his best to be the beacon of hope that Shepard was capable of being, although he was certain he was failing miserably in comparison. 

After, he found himself gravitating towards the loft. He wasn’t sure why. Her fish were dead, floating lifelessly at the top of the tank, which had remarkably survived intact. Everything on her desk was now strewn across the floor, most of it in more than one piece. Space hamster’s cage was on its side, though a quick inspection revealed that the little guy was still somehow alive. Her model ships were fine, though the glass case was splintered, and in the middle of it all, as though it had been deliberately placed there, was her N7 hoodie. He picked it up with trembling fingers and resisted the urge to bury his nose in it and inhale her scent. He knew from experience that it wouldn’t help. Instead, he draped it over the desk chair where he remembered it being last time he was here. He mechanically went about straightening the room up, all the while feeling that vast, cavernous, emptiness inside him. 

And yet, he was grateful, for one single thing.

That this time his last words to her had been ‘I love you’ instead of ‘aye, aye’. 

There was a reason to go on, and it was so her sacrifice meant something to her. She’d wanted to save them, him above all. He knew that and he couldn’t deny her that victory. 

He would never be whole. But he would live. For her. 

 

She,

Waited, patiently, in the dark. There was nothing but the waiting though she had no idea what she was waiting for. Sometimes she heard voices discussing her; she knew one of them was Miranda. Sometimes she felt the sheets that she must have surely been laid upon. Sometimes she heard the incessant beeping of her heart. 

Sometimes she heard the other voices; she knew one of them was Ashley. Sometimes she saw the bright light. Sometimes she felt its warmth and heard the angels sing. 

She made no move towards either sound when they came. 

There was only the waiting. 

 

He, 

Ran his fingers reverently over her name once again. 

There had been two pieces of good news. The first had come from Tali. She’d spent virtually all her time in the AI core and had revealed that EDI had somehow spliced and distributed some of her coding into the ship’s basic functions. If the coding could be extracted and re-joined there might be a chance of saving her. He hadn’t shared that particular revelation with Joker. The chance was slim at best, and would require proper technology that they just didn’t have at present. Even if it could be done, she might not be the EDI they knew. The last thing Joker needed was false hope. 

The other had been the restoration of comms. After three months, just knowing that they weren’t alone had been a huge morale boost. But the news had been… mixed at best. Restoration was beginning, parts of the Citadel were already in a somewhat liveable state, but progress was slow. The Charon relay would be operational in three years or so, thanks to some kind of new technology extracted from the deceased Reapers. Anderson was dead. There were so many dead. Shepard…

A coma is not dead, he told himself as his fingers traced her name. He had spent the last three months living with the fact that she was gone once more. He wasn’t sure he entirely trusted himself with the hope that she was not. 

She did it once before, he reminds himself. He stepped forward. He’d made the plaque anyway, wasn’t sure why. An unwillingness to believe maybe? But he couldn’t quite bring himself to place it on the wall. Not with a small flicker of hope burning brightly in his heart. 

Instead, he placed the plaque on the floor beside the wall and turned to face the crew.

“It’s time we went home.” 

 

She, 

Heard the sound and knew it for home, for safety. It was faint, but it was there. It was the only sound of the many she’d been hearing that she felt compelled to move towards. Her progress was slow, like a diver swimming back up to the surface, even as a lack of oxygen slows his movements. But she persisted. It felt slow, heavy, but not painful and always in the back of her mind, the sound drove her on. 

She reached the end of her journey and pulled a deep breath in through her nose. 

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a clinical, plain, antiseptic ceiling above her. She blinked. For a moment, she couldn’t hear the sound anymore and she blinked again in confusion. Then feeling started to return; it rippled through her, she felt the sheets around her, warm and comforting, felt the ache of her own muscles, aching but not painful, felt the tubes poking into her flesh, delivering their life-giving fluids into her system, and finally, as the ripples reached her head, she heard the sound again. This time she recognised it instantly and the machine next to her began beeping in earnest as her heartrate skyrocketed and her breathing started coming out in gasps. 

She knew that sound. 

Normandy. 

 

He, 

Gripped the back of Joker’s chair and prayed that the Normandy would hold together. The trip back to Earth had taken months, and those months had taken their toll on the repairs. Earth’s atmosphere was denser than most, and the descent was choppy and wild. He heard the hull screeching in protest, but they had made it this far and that was something. 

If possible, Earth looked even worse than when they’d left. The buildings had been stripped bare and the streets were lined with dead Reaper shells. Everything useful had long been stripped out of the Reapers, leaving them empty and hollow but no less terrifying for it. 

It was some moments before they saw any signs of life; a small cluster of lit buildings amidst the wreckage. Civilisation. Organic life reasserting itself. The indomitable human spirit in action. It made him feel hopeful, but then the fear of that hope. 

He had tried not to hope too much, terrified that it would only make the loss that much worse, should she not be capable of achieving the impossible twice. But each time, a traitorous part of his mind reminded him that he hadn’t lost her yet, and that maybe, just maybe, the white picket fence he’d always dreamed of wasn’t so far from reality. 

He shook the thoughts loose and turned his attention to finding a suitable landing zone, away from the inhabited areas.

 

She, 

Bolted upright and began indiscriminately ripping out wires, stubbornly ignoring the wail of the machines that had previously been keeping her alive. She recklessly threw her legs over the side of the bed and even though they were probably not truly ready to bear her weight they somehow managed to propel her to the window. 

And she saw it, in the sky above her. The SSV Normandy.

Her heart started thumping in her chest, so much so that she could feel each individual thud. She gasped aloud as joy and hope and fear and despair coursed through her system in a devastating chemical cocktail that her body was probably ill equipped to handle. 

It doesn’t matter. 

She was moving even before she realised it, walking out of the room, scooping up her uniform jacket as she did so. Her legs were wavering, unsteady, and her arms didn’t seem to want to co-operate, and yet with each step, each movement, she felt stronger. She marched down the corridor, barely hearing the doctors call her name. Each step was faster and faster. She had one need, one question she must know the answer to…

Did he survive? 

She threw the doors to the makeshift hospital wide open and stepped outside just in time to see the Normandy pass overhead. 

 

He, 

Held his breath as the Normandy touched down and the impact threatened to throw him off his feet. After the initial shock came the expected creaking and screeching as she settled into her new landing zone. He heard a few clatters and bangs as bits came loose or fell off entirely, but it didn’t matter. They made it home. The relief flowed through him, cleansing and relaxing, a weight falling from his shoulders, and, just for a moment, he couldn’t help but grin with the rest of the crew. 

He stepped towards the airlock, eager, after six months, to set foot on Earth again. The airlock jammed, opening only an inch or two before the door emitted a horrible squawking sound and shuddered to a halt. He braced his shoulder against the door and heaved and slowly, with one final shudder, the door gave way, springing open and allowing them to finally breathe Earth’s atmosphere.

 

She, 

Took off after the Normandy, breaking into a full run. Her leg muscles screeched in protest but after seeing the Normandy, her will was restored and her soldier’s discipline forced them into line. Her heart was still thundering in her chest and she seemed to be unable to do anything about that. With every beat, every breath, every movement of her legs the question ran through her mind.

Did he survive? 

She ran, leaping over the ruins of civilisation. Every few seconds her eyes rolled heavenward to check the position of the Normandy relative to her own. 

Did he survive? 

The Normandy sank lower and lower over the buildings until eventually she heard the screech as it landed. She rounded the final corner and came to a sudden stop. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her heart beating frantically in her ears. Her entire being was tense, so much so that she could barely stand it. Soon, her question would be answered either way. 

A squawk, a shudder and a door opened. 

A head emerged, a torso. 

Relief flooded through her system, cleansing and relaxing, all the weights falling from her shoulders. It broke down every barrier, and a sob, half of utter and unimaginable joy and half of utter and unimaginable sorrow, escaped her lips. Her legs gave out from under her and she found herself sinking to her knees, tears streaming down her face. 

 

He,

Heard the sob echo across the wasteland. Saw the shock of red hair, her name falling from his lips, and was running before he even consciously realised what he was doing. His heart was hammering in his chest and a large part of him didn’t believe he was seeing what he thought he was. He knew that the only way to be sure was to reach her. To fold her into his arms, to feel her beneath his fingers, and he was desperate to do just that. 

He picked up his pace. 

 

She, 

Saw him sprinting towards her across the debris, a look of utter disbelief on his face. She knew how he felt; she couldn’t quite seem to believe it either. That they won, that that they lived. It all seems too unlikely, too unreal. She scrambled to her feet, knowing that the only way to be sure it was real is to reach him. To throw her arms around him, to feel him beneath her fingers, and she was desperate to do just that. 

She picked up her pace. 

 

They, 

Met in the middle, all breathless cries and tangled limbs. She threw her arms around him, burying her hands into his hair and her nose into his neck, inhaling the scent that is eezo and spice and him. She felt his pulse beating beneath her lips, warm and familiar and alive. 

He threw his arms around her, crushing her against him, burying his nose into her hair and inhaling the scent that is eezo and jasmine and her. He felt her pulse beating beneath his lips, warm and familiar and alive. 

They squeezed each other for just a moment, tightly, before he raised his head just as she raised hers. They gazed at each other, bright green eyes flicking across his face just as warm dark eyes flicked across hers, reassurance that this was real. Slowly, hesitantly, as if, if they move too quickly the beautiful dream will fade, they pressed their lips together in a kiss that was at first tender and slow, then all at once fiery and passionate.

“You’re here,” he gasped when they broke apart, wonder evident in his tone. “You’re alive.” 

“I told you I’d be waiting,” she managed to say through her tears. 

He chuckled, blinking away the moisture in his own eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he murmured in reply, tightening his arms around her waist and holding her close. 

Together again, finally.


End file.
